10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Mason

Morning always came far too early when I was up half the night peeing. As a pregnant woman who’d been under an undue amount of stress over the past forty-eight hours, I thought I deserved to sleep for a few days straight. Or even just fifteen more minutes. Unfortunately, my boyfriend had made it his personal mission to get me out of bed. Having Sebastian pepper my cheeks with kisses wasn’t exactly a bad wake-up call, though. If I wasn’t so exhausted, I’d be thrilled.

“Stop,” I groaned, trying to shove him off.

My resistance seemed to ignite a fire in Sebastian. His kisses moved from my cheeks to my neck, nuzzling against me to move my hair out of the way. My protests were quickly replaced with a contented “mmm” .

“Someone has a breakfast date today, and I’m making sure she keeps it.”

And just like that, I was no longer interested in being awake. I pushed him away, rolled over, and slammed a pillow over my head. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see Sophia. I loved having her close yesterday. But she was part of a life I had given up long ago—for her sake and for Lucian’s.

Seb peeled the pillow out of his hand before resting his face near mine. Our noses were a hair away from touching. I fully closed the gap, craving that little connection between us. His hand slipped under my shirt and rested on my stomach.

“I’m okay with you joining their relationship,” he calmly stated.

He said that yesterday, too, but in my mind, all I heard was, ‘ I’m busy, so I’m making you somebody else’s problem. ‘

“I just want you.”

“I know, princess, I know.” He sighed, then used his free hand to find my wrist. I knew what he was looking for. As he turned over my palm, we both saw the stack of thin white lines. Most of them were expertly hidden under purple and blue ink, perfectly blended into an image of the cosmos, only visible if you knew what to look for. Sebastian brought my wrist to his lips, kissing the scars as he stared into my eyes.

“I don’t want you to do any more of this,” he pleaded.

For a moment, I wondered if I should be honest with him about my hair tie trick. But if I told him, he definitely wouldn’t let me stay here alone. And... I needed the small pain to keep from hurting myself worse.

“I won’t.”

His breath brushed against my wrist as he exhaled.

“Princess, I know you’re polyamorous, and I don’t want you to deny part of yourself to be with me.”

I looked down, suddenly unable to hold his gaze.

“But I just want to be with you.” My voice was barely above a breath.

“I want that too, but I also love you for the person you are. That includes the way you love. As long as you always come back to me, I want you to have that part of yourself back. Your dad forced you to be monogamous for years with your fiancé. Now, you deserve to be free.”

My brow pinched as I studied him, trying to scan his icy eyes for truth. I was god-awful at reading between the lines, so I never knew when someone was lying unless they just told me. But I read a book once that said people look away when they lie, and Sebastian was doing nothing of the sort.

Still, part of me wondered if this was some kind of ploy to see some girl-on-girl action. That was something I had learned about men: they loved lesbian sex. I never thought I’d see the day when my bisexuality was used as a marketing tactic, but I still wondered if that was why my dad pushed so hard for me to get engaged to Anya. She didn’t have any status as a celebrity, and she certainly didn’t make me happy. But I sure did get a lot of attention when the announcement hit the press.

“What if you get jealous?” I asked, trailing a finger under the rim of his glasses.

He shrugged. “Then I’ll tell you, and you’ll have my permission to dump them. But I don’t want you to spend your life swallowing bits and pieces of your personality just to make yourself more palatable.”

I tried to hide my shock at his words. That was all I had been doing for years. I was loud, obnoxious, and over-emotional, and that only scratched the surface of the disgusting amalgamation that unfortunately happened to be Mason Albright.

“What if I’m too much?”

“Sweet girl, you’ll never be too much for me.” He smirked. “And if you’re too much for anyone else to swallow? I say let them choke .”

I let his words wash over me, trying to internalize them. I didn’t want my inner monologue to echo my parents’ hatred. I wanted to be confident and sure of myself, instead of being a giant anxious mess all the time. But it wouldn’t be that easy to change.

“If I do this, can I have a reward?” Deep down, I knew it was childish to ask. But I needed the pressure of an impending ‘ job well done ’ to motivate myself.

“Anything you want, name it, and it’ll be yours… as soon as I get back from Massachusetts.”

My heart sank a little.

“You’re going away? Already?” But I just got here.

He rolled his lips in as he nodded, sucking a breath through his nose. “I tried to push it back, but my work is very… time sensitive.”

“You’re a detective. How is that time-sensitive?” My words came out angrier than I meant. I blamed it on the hormones—they were driving me fucking crazy.

Still, I meant what I said. Sebastian worked on homicide cases—specifically, serial killer cold cases that were deemed unsolvable. If these murders had gone unsolved for years, why couldn’t they wait another two days?

“To be honest, my case isn’t. But the cases I help close… Let’s just say, I need to be in the right place at the right time.”

“Why?”

Rapid blinks clouded Sebastian’s eyes, and he hesitated, almost like he was close to telling me something he legally shouldn’t.

I had asked Seb about his job a few different times, and each time he explained that most of the details were classified. I knew he was in Hartwood investigating a cult called The Sons of Christ, but that was the most I was allowed to know. Despite countless late-night internet searches, I couldn’t find any further information. How did Sebastian even begin to solve these cases with nothing to go on?

Eventually, he cleared his throat and answered my question. “Let’s just say... I need to know exactly where the suspect is so that I can handle them.”

“...Isn’t that dangerous?”

“No more questions.” he stated, leaning over to kiss my forehead. As his lips brushed against my skin, I realized he’d taken his piercings out.

“Are you leaving now?”

He nodded slowly, and I wanted to cry. But I fought back the tears. I was a grown woman. I had no reason to cry just because my boyfriend was leaving for a few days.

“I’m going to church and then driving down to Massachusetts,” he explained.

My nose wrinkled at the idea of church. Still, I wanted to spend more time with him.

“Can I come with you?”

His breathing stuttered. “Absolutely not.”

He must have been able to tell I was offended by the look on my face, because he instantly launched into defending his reaction.

“It’s not that I don’t want you with me.” he continued. “I just don’t want you to miss breakfast with Sophia. I also know church isn’t really your thing.”

“It’s not yours either,” I argued.

Despite being raised in the same Catholic family as Lucian, Sebastian strayed away from religion as soon as he had the chance. I once heard him call Christianity a cult. So... why would he go to church?

The gears in my mind were rusty from years of not having to think for myself, but that didn’t mean they weren’t operational. Just as the old cogs began grinding into motion, my daughter kicked the man who’d be acting as her father, causing his hand to rise slightly. Sebastian seemed just as amazed now as he’d been last night.

“Do you think we would have started dating if I didn’t get pregnant?” It was a strange question—I was the one who fought his advances for years. But right now, I couldn’t picture life without Seb, nor did I want to. His blue eyes slid over me, taking his time in certain places and not others. I wondered what he was looking for.

“Do I think we would have dated? Yes. But I firmly believe it would have taken longer.”

“Why?”

Sebastian blew out a breath, vibrating his lips in the process. “Ah, well—You’re going to hit me if I tell you.”

“I’ve never hit you.”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t.”

I forced myself up onto one elbow to stare him down. But my intensity was undercut by the weird nausea that followed me anytime my stomach was empty. I probably had fifteen minutes to choke something down before I’d be sick.

Still, I had time to argue.

“I would never .”

He smirked before pulling me back to the mattress. Being horizontal helped my nausea. Sebastian knew this.

“Do you know what a Tootsie Pop is?”

I blinked twice. Part of me wanted to remind him I had lived in America for six years; plenty of time to become familiar with the local sweets. And, more importantly, that they were his brother’s favorite candy—specifically, the blue ones.

Stop. Thinking. About. Lucian.

“Uh, yeah, I think so.” I squeaked as memories of the other Castillo filled my mind.

“So, you know how they have that thick layer of hard candy around that squishy middle?”

I nodded.

“You’re like a Tootsie Pop.”

That felt like an insult, but instead of voicing my dissatisfaction, I waited for him to finish.

“You have this outer shell that feels completely impenetrable. But, in the middle, you’re soft and sweet. For years, I tried to wear away at that outer shell. But the second you got pregnant, it just evaporated… around me, anyway.”

Even after Sebastian was done talking, I wasn’t sure how I felt about his comparison. But to be fair, I wasn’t sure how to feel about anything going on in this house.

I was just glad to be out of my father’s.

I waited until after Sebastian had left for church before getting ready for the day. Now that I was out of the heat of the moment, I was more than a little embarrassed about last night. I didn’t want to face anyone after that. But avoiding Sophia was impossible. So, I put on a face full of makeup and my most comfortable pants, then ventured out into the house.

In my attempt to hide from everyone, I never had a chance to look at my new surroundings. The walls were white, and there were more windows than I had ever seen in my life. I stopped at the top of the stairs, leaning on the banister as I gazed out the enormous window above the foyer. The gauzy pastel curtains were tied back on either side, allowing a golden glow to trickle in.

Back home, I lived with the curtains shut. If I ever dared to open them, I would be greeted by flashing cameras rather than sunlight. I had forgotten how nice it felt to stand in the sunshine. Even through the closed windows, its warmth seeped into my skin as I gazed out at the endless rows of crops.

Just how big was this place?

The house creaked, and I turned on my heels to see Sophia just inches away from me. I jumped back and stumbled over myself. I would’ve hit the floor if Sophia hadn’t grabbed my wrist. Her grasp ignited a panic in me—I hated it when people touched me there. It reminded me of awful things my dad put me through in the name of unlearning my personality. But, since the moment was calm, I had a chance to remind myself that Sophia wouldn’t hurt me… at least, I didn’t think she would.

“Good morning, sunshine.” She smiled.

There was a hint of apprehension in her eyes, but her confidence would never let her show it. That’s just how Sophia was; if I was as great as her, maybe I could have that kind of confidence too. She was smart, kind, and beautiful. My gaze danced around her face, taking in her delicate features. Big blue eyes that lit up when she smiled, high cheekbones, and skin devoid of all flaws, including freckles. She was like a plus-sized Barbie doll, complete with the ability to do anything she set her mind to.

“Oh my gosh, your heart is beating fast,” she gasped, fingers still wound around my wrist. “Are you alright?”

I yanked myself from her grasp and wrapped my arms around my chest as heat rushed to my face. The last thing I needed was for her to psychoanalyze bodily reactions I couldn’t control.

“I’m fine.” I brushed past her and began quickly descending the steps.

“Why are you up?” she asked, following close behind me. “You and Lucian always used to sleep in.”

“Things change.”

“Oh—Does that mean you’re an early bird now? That’s fantastic!”

I walked a little faster, trying to make space between us as I hopped off the bottom step, but as I looked around the massive open space around me, I realized I had no idea where I was going. To my right was a closed door, and to my left was the dining room. Fearing that the closed door might be someone’s bedroom, I walked toward the dining room and noticed a short hallway that passed under the staircase, leading further into the house.

I followed it and emerged in an enormous living room. A matching set of blue velvet furniture surrounded a fluffy white rug and a glass coffee table covered in thousands of tiny fingerprints.

“Sorry for the mess,” she laughed. “You know—kids.”

Right, they had kids. Lucian was adamant about being there for his twins—I could tell that by the way he spoke to Cameron last night. A sinking feeling filled my chest as I looked up at the family photos on the wall. In them, the three adults sat in matching outfits with their two children. Both of the tots had Lucian’s complexion and mop of dark curly hair… but that’s where the similarities ended. Both of the twins had almond-shaped eyes that were so vibrantly green they could have blended into the grass. Where did they get those? Certainly not from Sophia.

I turned back to see the entryway at the end of the hallway I’d passed through earlier. There was a shoe rack lined with cowboy boots, Doc Martens, white sneakers, and approximately four and a half pairs of toddler shoes. I swallowed hard as a lump formed in my throat.

“It’s not a mess… it’s homey,” I mumbled.

Sophia clicked her tongue as if she disagreed, but she didn’t press the issue. “How far along are you?”

“Twenty-six weeks today.”

“That far?” She gasped. “But you’re so tiny!”

That shouldn’t have felt like a compliment, but it did. I hid my blush, letting my hair fall like a curtain in front of my face, and continued exploring. Along one of the living room walls, a little library was set up. A cozy-looking armchair sat next to a small side table with a lamp, all in front of a large bookshelf. The shelves were lined with trashy romance novels like the ones I enjoyed, but they looked like they had never been touched.

What a shame.

Near the bottom, I could see a few thicker books that I didn’t recognize, and in the corner, there were two cats nestled together on a pink cushion. The color of their fur was slightly washed out as they basked in the sunlight, and the sound of purrs filled the room.

“The black one is Pepper, and the orange tabby is Richard,” Sophia explained, and I realized I had backed myself into a place where I couldn’t run from her. So, with a deep breath, I turned to face her again. Her smile was wide, and the way she looked at me caused butterflies to swarm in my chest. I took a deep breath and reminded myself she deserved better than I could ever be.

You promised Seb you’d do this. Just play along.

“Pepper and Richard, huh?” The smile I wore hurt my cheeks. “They seem happy.”

Sophia nodded. “They’re my babies.”

“I can’t believe Lucian agreed to pets,” I snorted. He wouldn’t even let me have a mouse when we lived together… but I guess he also had kids now.

Speaking of, shouldn’t the children be Sophia’s babies?

“I don’t think he wanted me to have these two either.” she continued. “He found them as kittens behind his tattoo parlor. Someone threw them in his dumpster, and he climbed in to get them out. He brought them home for one night until he could take them to a shelter, and... well. They never left.”

Sophia continued rambling about the cats, but something she’d said caught my attention. Lucian was still in his tattoo apprenticeship when I left America, but tattooing was supposed to be his backup plan. Lucian wanted to be a musician, and from what I remembered, he was good . He was the one who taught me how to play guitar. No matter how much I practiced, I could never reach his level, even to this day.

So much had changed since I left.

I stared at the felines for a moment and wondered if they were scared when they first came here. If their first thought was to run and hide and pretend the world didn’t exist. Did they come out slowly, cautiously sniffing out their new environment? Did they tear up the couches to show their displeasure at being trapped inside?

Or were they just happy to be out of the cold?

“... and sometimes Richard will sit directly on Cam’s head. It’s the funniest thing. But, for me to keep them, I did have to let Luci get a snake. I’d rather die than touch it.”

Now that sounded more like Lucian.

“Maybe I’ll ask him to show me later.”

“He would! He loves to show off Pearl.”

Pearl must be the snake’s name.

“Here, I promised breakfast. Let’s go sit.”

My stomach churned at the thought of breakfast, but it wasn’t from morning sickness. I had eaten way too much yesterday, and I needed to get back on track.

Oblivious to my resistance, Sophia laced her fingers in mine as she dragged me into the kitchen. Just like the rest of the house, it was massive. Giant windows stood over a small table with three dining chairs. Counters and cabinets stretched across two of the walls, providing enough space for three people to cook at the same time. I was a little jealous of the double-basin sink and the gas stove—I’d have to ask Sebastian if his kitchen in Portland was as beautiful as this one.

Sophia led me to the kitchen island and helped me onto one of the stools. My fingers drummed against the quartz countertop as I tried to hide my nerves.

“Cameron made cinnamon rolls, and they’re seriously better than sex,” Sophia said, heading toward the fridge. I seriously doubted anything could be better than sex... But as far as I remembered, when Sophia said something, it wasn’t up for debate. She’d argue with a wall if she could, and somehow, she’d win.

Sophia pulled back the stainless-steel fridge door and examined the contents. My mouth watered at the idea of a pastry, but that wasn’t what I was allowed to have for breakfast. Besides, I’d already had way too much to eat yesterday.

“Do you have grapefruit?” I asked, hoping that I wasn’t being too much of a burden.

Her head poked out from behind the fridge door. “Do you like grapefruit now? You always said it was bitter.”

I took a deep breath.“Not exactly—”

“Great! We don’t have that anyway.”

Sophia vanished behind the door to grab a pink pitcher filled with some sort of milky liquid. The color of the plastic made it hard to tell exactly what it was. She set the mystery drink on the island beside me before turning and bending over to grab something out of the oven. I couldn’t help but stare at her ass, which probably made me no better than a man.

She grabbed a pan without using oven mitts and brought what remained of the cinnamon rolls to the island. There was so much icing on them, I wouldn’t have known what they were if she hadn’t told me. My mouth watered at the sight.

“Cam made these?”

“Mhm!”

She left me one final time to grab two cups and one plate.

When she returned, she filled both glasses with the contents of the pitcher. It looked like iced coffee with some sort of cream.

“He’s really into baking, and honestly, I’m not going to complain.” She laughed, using the spatula in the baking dish to pull out a cinnamon roll. Once it was securely on the bubblegum-colored plate, she slid it my way.

It looked soft and sweet, and something in my gut told me it would taste better than the one I had at the airport. But a little voice in my head told me I had no right to be eating it. It was probably a thousand calories, and I hadn’t worked out in almost two days.

“This is really kind, but I feel like I’m overstepping,” I explained, looking for any reason not to eat the pastry… even though I really wanted to.

“It’s no bother at all.” She beamed, scooting the plate toward me again. “After all, you’re pregnant. This is the one time you’re supposed to let someone else take care of you.”

Hearing her say that eased my nerves just a little. I hated the feeling of sticky or greasy fingers, but I didn’t want to ask for a fork. So, instead of asking her, I lifted the plate slightly before licking the icing. The cream cheese was tangy and perfectly sweet. Saliva pooled in my mouth, and I swallowed it down with a drink of coffee. Unfortunately, it was also good enough to make me want to down the glass in one go. I sat up straight before pushing them both away slightly.

“I’m trying, but I really like being independent… you know that.”

Sophia nodded at my words, running a well-polished nail around the rim of her glass. God, she was pretty. She studied me, her sapphire eyes displaying an emotion I couldn’t read. I cleared my throat as the need to please her bubbled up.

“But, I guess you are speaking from experience, since you were pregnant with twins.”

Sophia choked on a laugh. “God no. I love Lucian’s kids, but I didn’t give birth to them. I got my tubes tied as a twenty-first birthday present.”

“I’m sure Lucian wasn’t happy about that.” The words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them. But, he had always been very open about wanting to be married with a kid on the way by twenty-three.

Part of me expected Sophia to snap or lecture me about how it was her body and her choice. I would have agreed with her if she had—it didn’t take a genius to figure out I had overstepped. But instead, she reached over, covering my hand with hers. Her palm rested on my knuckles, and I had come to know that this was a friendly gesture for Sophia, not a romantic one.

“I don’t exist to please anyone other than me, just like you don’t exist to please anyone other than you.” She tapped the tip of my nose with her pointer finger as she finished her sentence.

I wiggle my nose in response, trying to get rid of the lingering feeling of her skin on mine.

There was one problem with her logic. Everyone loved Sophia White for being Sophia White. She was intelligent, kind, beautiful, and driven. No one other than Sebastian liked me for me.

Mason Albright, the musician, had millions of fans, but Mason Albright, the person, had no friends.

The public loved the persona my father had lovingly crafted, and I liked the acceptance that fake Mason received. I held my hair back and licked the frosting again—only then did I realize how silly I must look to Sophia.

“Shoot, I forgot about your… texture thing.” Her nose wrinkled. “Do you want a fork?”

I quickly nodded. I knew if I let the idea linger much longer, I’d force myself to be uncomfortable to make her life easier. But I didn’t want to deal with another bout of sensory overload. She dashed across the kitchen, then rummaged through a drawer before returning to me.

“You realize you can ask for things… right?”

She passed the silverware to me, and my face went hot. I tried to look away and focus on the breakfast I shouldn’t be eating.

As I pressed the side of the fork into the cinnamon roll, the entire plate tipped forward. Time seemed to slow down as the pastry landed icing-first in my lap, splattering sticky white goop all over my legs and stomach. The plate bounced off my thigh and shattered as it hit the floor, littering the gorgeous hardwood with shards of broken bubblegum-pink glass.

I flinched and covered my ears as tears pricked my eyes. Oxygen filled my lungs in shallow gasps, and I made the mistake of looking back at Sophia. Her jaw had dropped, and her eyes were wide, looking at me as though she were staring at a monster.

I can fix this. I need to fix this.

I sat the cinnamon roll on a nearby napkin before lowering myself to the ground to pick up what remained of the plate. The weathered wood floor was cold and hurt my knees; still, I diligently worked, piling the broken porcelain onto the largest remaining chunk of the plate. It felt like I was breathing through a straw as voices, only audible in my memories, filled my mind.

“You’ve fucked up again, no surprise there.”

“Do you really think this is good enough?”

Hot tears escaped and pattered against the floor, creating small circles in a smear of icing that had fallen from my lap. That’s when I realized the awful truth: I wasn’t helping. I was just making a bigger mess.

“Seriously, you’re crying again?”

I tried to clear my throat and stop the tears before apologizing: “I’m sorry. Sophia, I’m so sorry.”

“‘Sorry’? You think that’s enough to fix this?”

My face felt like an inferno as I looked up. I had been so distracted fixing my mistake that I didn’t notice Sophia had crouched beside me. She wasn’t helping me clean. Instead, her eyes were locked on mine.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, my voice thick with sorrow.

“Come on, Masie.” She smiled, removing the paper towels from my hand. “Let’s get your hands washed.” She pulled me to my feet, and the world around me spun.

We walked to the sink together, and she stood behind me as she turned on the water. Steam caressed my face as she guided my hands under the flow. Disgusting hiccup-like sobs escaped my chest as she massaged foamy pink soap into my hands. It smelled like strawberries.

“Shhh, deep breaths. You’re alright.” She assured me before turning the water off.

Sophia wrapped an arm around me, helping me to the couch safely despite the intense shaking in my knees. The velvet was soft, and now that I was away from the mess in the kitchen, I started to feel better.

“I’m so sorry.” I sniffled. But, instead of being angry, Sophia’s face remained soft and her smile kind.

“Did you get hurt?” She pulled my hands toward her, turning them over to examine my palms before folding them in her lap.

I swallowed hard and shook my head. I still needed a minute to compose myself before I could actually speak.

“Then that’s all that matters.” Sophia assured. She leaned in closer, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead, then dropping her palms to my cheeks, forcing me to look at her.

“Who hurt you?”

Who hurt me?

Did she want a name? A list? Was this a rhetorical question? If not, what was the right answer? I cleared my throat and forced a smile as I prepared to laugh off her question.

“What?”

“You heard me,” she whispered. “This isn’t how someone who’s completely fine acts… so who hurt you?”

My bottom lip quivered as another tear escaped, and Sophia swatted it away with her thumb. This wasn’t a conversation I was ready for, and I think she could tell.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.” She dropped her hands and shrugged. “Even if you have your secrets, I still want a second chance… for all of us.” She swept the hair from my face behind my ear. “How do you feel about that?”

“Like you’re making a mistake.” The words escaped before I could stop them.

She blinked twice. “Mason, the only mistake I ever made in our relationship was letting you leave… especially since something happened that made you like this .”

“I’m fine,” I defended.

And she nodded. “I’m not going to argue with you, but I’m still going to ask that you join us.”

“Sophia, I—”

“Ahht!” She raised a finger. “At first, I wanted this because I missed you… but now I think it could be good for you.”

My heart skipped.“...Good for me?”

“Mhm.” She smiled. “It seems like you haven’t had love in a long time.”

… Sophia wanted to love me? Even after I destroyed her kitchen? After I left them without so much as a goodbye? Why couldn’t Sophia see that loving me was a bad idea?

“Let us love you, nothing serious,” she assured, as if love was a casual thing. “Just spend time with the boys and I, maybe have sex if things feel right. No pressure at all.”

Saying ‘ no pressure ’ to someone always had the opposite effect, didn’t she know that? Still, even with everything going on around me, I liked the idea of being near Sophia… just not dating.

“Can we take it slow?” I didn’t realize how tense Sophia was until her shoulders fell with a breath. Her smile was gentle as she nodded. Without the pressure to be romantically involved, I could be okay. But, with that resolved, a new question filled my mind:

Why was my involvement with them so important to Seb?